Love in the Air (16 page)

“Don’t know, but let’s be there in case.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Kay, dressed in warm wool slacks of gray and a navy pullover sweater with an oxford-cloth blouse of white underneath, threw open her front door to see Sullivan in a heavy overcoat of black, a long plaid scarf of black and white wrapped around his neck.

He gathered up her gray suede suitcases while Kay tugged on her coat, gloves and a warm wool cap. Silently they descended in the elevator where Jeff, waiting in the quiet lobby, relieved Sullivan of part of his burden, winked at Kay and said, “I felt sure you’d be wearing a sundress, C.A.”

Kay rolled her eyes and hurried out the door, down the slippery front steps to the four-wheel-drive van parked at the curb, its engine idling. The men loaded her baggage in the back beside Sullivan’s and Jeff climbed behind the wheel, while Kay slid in the middle, Sullivan beside her.

Jeff was whistling as though it were a lovely spring day and Kay found his good humor irritating. “Jeff, do you mind?” She shot a silencing glance at him.

His eyes twinkled. “Honey, you’re worrying for nothing. By ten minutes after the hour of eight, you’ll be up above all this and on your way to sunny Florida.”

“Damn it, Jeff,” Sullivan said, a long arm draped along the seat behind Kay, “don’t go getting her hopes up. You know this is one of the worst blizzards in years.” He glanced at Kay’s tight face.

Kay leaned forward, turned on the radio and anxiously listened to Ace Black, filling in for them, saying, “That was some hot music for a cold morning. Word’s just in that the officials are at this moment considering the closing of Stapleton International. Many flights have already been canceled and it looks as though…”

Sullivan switched off the radio. “It’s out of our hands, Kay. We may get lucky and get out before the airport closes.”

Jeff, expertly maneuvering the four-wheel-drive vehicle over the snow-packed streets, said cheerfully, “You know, I can’t help but think there’s some sort of conspiracy here, Ward. The station sends you on a promo trip and you get this sweet, beautiful girl for your traveling companion. You get to go to Nassau and stay in the Paradise Island Hotel with grand rooms, good restaurants, even casinos. The promo trip I had, I was sent to some godforsaken island where thatched-roofed huts were the only accommodations. And my traveling partner? Ace Black. If I hadn’t wisely packed the Scrabble board, I’d have gone crazy. Although Ace has got to be the world’s worst Scrabble player and he snores besides.”

Kay and Sullivan laughed. Sullivan could see Jeff’s entertaining chatter was helping to relax a very nervous Kay. “Tell Kay about the time you went to Vegas.”

“Oh, yeah—” Jeff bobbed his head “—I forgot about that one. They send Sullivan out there with a full plane about six months ago, put him up at Caesar’s, naturally. You know, king-size beds, movies in your room, great shows. But me? Sure, I get a trip to Vegas. I’m put up in some off-the-Strip place called Western Sunset. Do I get a king-size bed? Uh-uh. I’ve a bale of hay tossed in the corner. Television? Sure. A thirteen-inch black and white. Did you know they still make black-and-white television sets? I didn’t.” He continued to regale Kay with tales of his less than satisfactory excursions and Kay’s tinkling laughter filled the van’s cab. She was still laughing when they arrived at Stapleton International Airport.

Inside the terminal, Kay’s apprehension returned. Flights were canceled by all the airlines. Heart hammering, Kay’s blue eyes scanned the ever-changing Eastern Airline monitor. Flight 111 for Miami was still scheduled to depart from gate ten at eight.

Jeff insisted he stay until they took off. Sullivan, looking over Kay’s head at Jeff, nodded his agreement. Neither man was sure they wouldn’t need a ride back home.

Kay could hardly believe it when she and Sullivan waved goodbye to Jeff. “Happy trails, kiddies.” Jeff kissed Kay’s cheek and shook hands with Sullivan.

She and Sullivan boarded the plane. Smiling stewards and stewardesses greeted the pair and showed them where the plane’s intercom microphones were located. It had been agreed that both would say a few words of welcome to the passengers once they were airborne.

Eager travelers were soon boarding. Kay and Sullivan stood at the portal, shaking hands and welcoming them on board. In a matter of minutes every seat in the coach was full on the big jet, the doors were closed and locked and Kay and Sullivan took their seats in the first-class section.

While the heavy, blowing snows buffeted the shiny wet plane, the captain taxied out to the one runway still open and Kay, though elated that they were on their way, felt that old unease twisting at her stomach as it always did on takeoff. She flew often. But she had never gotten over her illogical fear. Sullivan remembered.

“We’re cleared for takeoff,” came the captain’s voice as the plane’s engines grew deafeningly loud and he turned on full power.

“Kay,” Sullivan said softly and took her cold hand. He drew it to his stomach and held it in both of his. She smiled her gratitude as they hurled headlong down the icy runway and into the air. Up, up through the thick, blinding snow they rose, until finally, to the cheers of the crowd in the cabin, the silver plane broke through to a bright, blue sky at thirty-five thousand feet.

Kay laughed, squeezed Sullivan’s hand happily and said, “I worried for nothing.”

“That’s right,” he agreed, flipped open his seat belt and said, “let’s go to the mikes and say a few words.”

Jeff Kerns, making his way back to the radio station, heard the news just as he was leaving the airport entrance. “Stapleton International Airport is now officially closed.”

Eastern’s flight 111 was the very last to get off the ground.

Sullivan and Kay were in high spirits upon landing at Miami International. They, along with their happy Denver travelers, climbed aboard waiting motor coaches for the journey to the pier where the sleek, impressive cruise ship stood gleaming white in the warm Florida sun.

Kay, her face awash with pleasure, clung to Sullivan’s hand and hurried up onto the sun deck, saying happily, “As soon as we wave goodbye, I’m going to get out of these hot clothes!”

Sullivan smiled indulgently. “Why wait? It’ll be a good half hour before we hoist anchor.”

“But our baggage, will it be—”

“It’ll be in your stateroom by the time you get there.”

“Help me find my compartment?”

Sullivan chuckled. “Gladly. It’s next door to mine.” Sullivan led Kay down two levels to the promenade deck, where the prized deluxe outside staterooms were located. He accompanied her into the plush room and enjoyed the look of delight on her face when, her eyes sweeping the red and white interior with its shining glass window offering an unobstructed view of the sea, she poked her head into the bath and whirled.

“Sullivan! There’s even a tub.” Before he could answer, she was jerking the card from a bon-voyage basket of fruit. “How sweet,” she said. “It’s from the entire staff of Q102.” She lowered the card and saw them. A dozen Happiness roses rested in a water-filled crystal vase on the night table by her bed. Kay looked nervously at Sullivan, afraid to assume anything. He was looking at her but the mysterious depths of his eyes gave nothing away.

Kay walked to the roses, read the card and leaned forward to inhale of the roses’ sweet fragrance. She slowly turned around and saw that Sullivan was smiling at her. “Thank you,” she said softly, walked to him and put a hand to his strong jaw. She stood on tiptoe and gave his smooth cheek a kiss. He seemed neither pleased nor perplexed.

“Meet you topside in fifteen minutes.” He turned and left her.

Kay stripped off the hot sweater the minute he closed the door. She liked the look that came into his eyes when she joined him at the ship’s railing. She liked even better the feel of a long arm coming around her waist to draw her close to him. They stood high above the pier, waving to the crowd below, and Kay threw back her head and laughed when the big, sleek ship began to maneuver out of the bay toward the open Atlantic.

“You should try to cheer up, Kay,” Sullivan kidded, and Kay laughed all the harder. Sullivan laughed with her. Kay was sure it was going to be a glorious trip.

Moonlight shimmered on the ocean as Sullivan and Kay languidly strolled around the polished promenade deck, smiling and nodding to members of their group reclining in deck chairs or taking the sea breeze after dinner.

In the distance, a million twinkling lights were steadily growing closer. Passengers soon lined the smooth railing as the port of Nassau came up to meet them. Everyone went ashore and Kay, riding across the island, peered out the window at the lush green-black foliage enveloping the narrow route.

Over the bridge the rattling taxi sped, to Paradise Island, where the group’s hotel rooms awaited them. Yawning behind her hand and promising herself she’d see everything come morning, Kay willingly let Sullivan guide her past the bustling casino to her room on the top floor of the hotel. A smiling bellman led the way, loaded down with baggage.

Sullivan bid her good-night and Kay, briefly studying the lovely room of green and white, crossed to the closed white-slatted double doors and flung them open. Bright moonlight streamed into the room and the sound of the breakers crashing against the beach made Kay realize she truly had arrived at this Caribbean Shangri-la.

Kay inhaled deeply of the sweet night air, turned and undressed for bed. The last thought before she lost consciousness was, “It is Tuesday night. We leave the island on Monday morning. I have five days and five nights to make Sullivan see that we are made for each other.” She was smiling as she fell asleep.

It was a wonderful but busy time for Kay and the Denver crowd. Her role as hostess made it necessary for her to escort some of the travelers across the island bridge for shopping and browsing. The fashionable shops of Bay Street were a delight, and only a couple of blocks away, the world’s largest straw market was a favorite of the Denverites. Kay bought a wide-brimmed hat to wear through the narrow streets.

She took a tour through the residential sections, admiring the colorful white and pink colonial houses, products of the island’s British influence. She lunched with some of the group at quaint little outdoor cafés and joined them for games of backgammon in the cheerful sun room at the hotel.

It was all enjoyable, but Kay would have preferred spending her time with Sullivan. Sullivan was busy also. He accompanied some of the tourists on fishing excursions, he played gin rummy in organized tournaments, he went for sunrise swims in the surf with the athletic members of the group.

Still, Sullivan and Kay did find time to be together. It was mid-afternoon on Thursday that Kay, breaking away from the tired people she’d spent the morning and noontime with, donned a pale blue bikini, drew on an ankle-length cover-up and headed for the beach.

Kay walked determinedly past the hotel pool with its row upon row of padded chaise longues holding vacationers of every size and shape, all with varying degrees of tans. Kay idly wondered why anyone would come to this glorious island and choose to lie by the pool when the beach lay not fifty yards away.

Shrugging slender shoulders and silently deciding, “to each his own,” Kay crossed the heated red cement beside the huge pool, went down a set of iron stairs and smiled happily. Before her the emerald-green Caribbean washed up onto the sugary-white sands of the beach. Tall, swaying palms offered scant shade for the weakhearted, while overhead the bright Bahamian sun beat down, turning the blue-green water to blinding pools of light as far as the eye could see.

Kay walked barefooted along the powdery hot sand, choosing just the right place to spread her beach towel. Hurriedly shedding the lace cover-up, Kay stretched out on her back, squinted up into the sun, sighed and closed her eyes. She was almost dozing, the heat of the sun draining the energy from her exposed body, when a shadow fell between her and the sun.

Kay’s eyes fluttered open to see Sullivan standing above her. Making no effort to hide his assessing perusal of her, his dark eyes slid slowly up her long, slender legs to the gentle curve of her hips and her bare flat stomach. The intense gaze moved to the full, ripe breasts skimpily covered with the pale-blue bikini bra. Kay felt her already heated body grow warmer still under his unwavering appraisal.

It was not her lack of clothing alone that made her feel faint and flushed. Sullivan wore only a pair of black, quick-drying nylon swim trunks, and the manly vision he projected standing above her with his bare feet apart was enough to heat any woman’s blood. The shoulders, wet from the sea, fairly shimmered in the sun’s harsh rays. Beads of water glistened in the thatch of black hair covering his chest. Long legs, as tanned as his chest and arms, looked strong and powerful. The blatant masculinity hinted at beneath his clothes was all too boldly displayed in the short, snug swim trunks.

Sullivan, dropping to his knees beside her, said thickly, “Aren’t you afraid you’ll burn completely up?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” She smiled at him, thinking it was he, not the sun, that was threatening to incinerate her.

Sullivan stretched out on his side near her, weight supported on an elbow. His eyes went wistfully out to where sky met sea, but Kay saw the clenching of his jaw and knew he was just as susceptible to her as she was to him. If only he would admit it.

They lay out until sundown. Then it was time to dress for the cocktail party they were hosting at poolside. Kay chose a simple sundress of beige linen and saw that her shoulders were turning pink from the day’s afternoon at the beach. Longing for the kind of tan she’d had in the summer, she promised herself she’d somehow find more time to sunbathe.

The days and the nights were flying past much too fast. Kay was having a glorious time, and Sullivan, she had to admit, spent as much time as he could with her. It was hardly his fault that there were so many planned activities that they had to take part in. Every day’s agenda was crammed with obligations for both of them.

Except Sunday.